Homecoming
by NocturneBlack
Summary: Mako could see it in the way her eyes shone up at him, shone like the stars reflected in the bay. He saw it then, written all over her face: love. She loved him. And with that, the realization that he had been trying for so long to deny came crashing down around him: he had never stopped loving her. Makorra.


Mako awoke when the first rays of sun spilled through his curtains. His muscles ached from the uncomfortable position they had slept in. He shifted slightly, wrenching his arm out from beneath her. He looked down at her before getting out of bed. She wasn't naked; they hadn't had sex. All he did was kiss her, and here she was, in his bed after three long years with no contact between the two of them, not even a letter.

He really shouldn't have kissed her, he thought as he began cooking a breakfast of eggs and toast on the stove. He always did stupid shit when he was drunk. Bolin would have been happy to remind him of that by recounting the tale of Mako swimming in the bay and nearly freezing to death one New Year's Eve. But Bolin had not been there last night when he had Korra over for dinner, under the innocent pretense of "catching up", had not been there to help them drink the bottle of wine she had discovered in one of his kitchen cupboards.

"Hey," came a soft, sleep-addled voice from the kitchen doorway. He turned, slightly startled, and took in the sight of her. She was clad in nothing but a baggy t shirt (his) and a pair of too small shorts, her dark smooth skin bore to him. Her hair, now shorter, was messy and stuck up in places. She was sleepy and vulnerable and beautiful, and she made him want to abandon the task of making eggs that were just runny enough, made him want to go to her in three simple strides across the rough tile floor, made him want to press himself against her and tear her clothes off and fuck her until they both passed out from exhaustion.

But he didn't do any of that because he couldn't. He felt like a damn masochist at times, like he was just waiting to get dragged through the dirt again. But this time was different, he kept telling himself. Korra was different. She had changed, and he knew that a relationship had got to be the last thing she wanted at that point.

"You're up early," he said, shifting his gaze back to the pan.

"I smelt the food," she laughed. The sound was light and carefree and he realized he had missed it, as absurd as that was.

"So what do you want to do today," she asked as they sat at the table, eating their breakfast. He considered this carefully. She wanted to spend the day with him, apparently.

"We can do whatever you want," he replied, trying to keep his voice casual.

"Let's just lay in bed for another hour or two. Then I'll think of something." She grinned at him. It was infectious and he smiled back.

They lay together in his bed on their sides, her back to his front.

"I'm sorry I didn't write you," she said, barely above a whisper, almost as if she hadn't really intended for him to hear it.

His heart sped up as he thought of the question he wanted to ask her. He sighed deeply.

"Did you think about me at all?" The moment the words left his lips he regretted them, thinking he sounded like a whiny, spoiled child. She grabbed hold of his hand, the one resting near her stomach.

"Yes," she breathed.

He didn't need to press her further. It was enough.

When they emerged from the warmth of his small bed she had decided that she wanted him to take her to a sweet shop. Though he was initially somewhat confused by her choice, he didn't question it. When they got to the street outside of his apartment she reached for his hand, and his fingers laced with hers easily.

Easy.

It was always so easy for them to fall back into the routine of caring for one another, of loving one another. Mako wondered if she had thought about this as much as he had. No matter what broke them apart, no matter the time and distance that separated them, they seemed to always return to one another, as if they had magnets embedded beneath their skin. Had she contemplated that as much as he had? Had she spent her nights lying awake in her bed, trying to remember the way his hands felt pressing against her hips? Had it driven her mad with frustration and longing when she couldn't quite remember exactly the way his tongue felt against her skin?

Mako took a deep breath (for what felt like the millionth time in the past twenty four hours) and struggled to refocus his thoughts as he led them down a side street, toward the sweet shop that he vaguely remembered his mother taking him to, once, so very long ago. The awning above the windows was striped in pink and gold, and behind the window was a vast array of chocolate candies and decorated pastries. He sensed the smile on Korra's face before he saw it.

She tugged him by the hand through the door, her eagerness similar to Mako's when he had come there as a child. He knew that she was happy to be out. Happy to not worry about people recognizing her, at least for the time being. Happy to be with him.

They bought multiple pastries and devoured them at a small table in the corner. She smiled and laughed, laughed at herself and laughed at him, and for a little while they were able to forget about the years they had spent apart and the rapidly developing problems in the Earth Kingdom. Mako was okay with not thinking about those things for once. He was okay with not wondering whether or not she still loved him.

That is, he was okay with it until she kissed him. They had walked back to his apartment after a full day in the city. The sun had just begun to set. While Mako had fumbled for his keys to unlock the door she had grabbed his face in her hands and pulled his lips down to hers. He pulled back almost immediately. Almost immediately, but not quite, because he couldn't help but kiss her back for a moment, to feel the warmth of her mouth against his own.

He pulled back and fixed her with a glare, his heavy brows hooding his amber eyes.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm kissing you," she replied simply. This did nothing to ease his agitation.

"Don't do this, Korra," he said roughly. "Don't do this to me again."

Her eyes became slightly glassy and she reached out and grasped his shoulders.

"I don't want to hurt you again," she said softly, and her voice was so full of honesty that it startled Mako, and he wanted to believe her.

"Then what do you want? What makes this different than last time?" he asked her, though he already knew the answer. They were different. So much had changed in the past three years, and yet she still wanted him. Mako had never stopped wanting her. He had never stopped thinking about her, had never stopped trying to imagine her weight against him as he fell asleep every night.

"I want to go inside," she said, nodding toward the door, the key still in the lock. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes. She was actually doing this.

"Mako… please," she said, her voice quiet and pleading. She moved her hands down his arms until they were holding his. He opened his eyes and looked at her, taking in the plain green tunic and pants she wore, his eyes locking on the stark blue of her eyes that contrasted with her dark skin.

"Let's just go inside." He studied her face for a moment longer. There was an apologetic look to her expression, but beneath that he could sense her desire. He could see it in the tilt of her brow and the form of her lips. He could see it in the way her eyes shone up at him, shone like the stars reflected in the bay. He saw it then, written all over her face: love. She loved him. And with that, the realization that he had been trying for so long to deny came crashing down around him: he had never stopped loving her.

He turned the key in the door and grasped her hand firmly, yanking her through the door way. He closed the door behind them and immediately pushed her against it. His mouth went to hers. Her lips were warm and soft and sweet and he drank her in. His hands moved down her sides, resting on her hips and clutching them, pushing her against the hard wood at her back. She responded eagerly, her tongue slipping into his mouth and pushing against his. He moaned low in his throat. Her hands slipped under his shirt and roamed over the lean muscle of his abdomen, becoming reacquainted with every plane and angle. Korra lifted his shirt up and off him, and he needed to feel her warmth, needed to feel her bare skin against his own. He yanked her tunic off in one swift motion and he wrapped his arms around her so that her body was pressed firmly against his. His mouth went to her neck and began to lick and suck the little patch of skin there that drove her wild. She inhaled sharply and twisted her fingers in his hair.

He made his way down her neck, his mouth relearning every inch of her skin as he moved to her collarbone to the swell of her breasts. There was franticness in their movements, a desperate desire to eliminate any space between them. She tugged at her bindings and they fell from her body, revealing her full breasts. His lips and hands roamed over them, and she moaned when his tongue and lips and fingers flitted over her nipples. He moved so that he was kneeling in front of her, and he pushed her pants down her legs, exposing her simple white underwear. His hands held onto the soft, curved flesh of her thighs and he pressed his face between her legs, wanting to taste her, wanting to drive her crazy, as crazy as she made him. He pressed his tongue against her, licking her over her underwear, and he could feel her heat and wetness through the thin fabric.

She cried out, her legs threatening to buckle beneath her. His hands moved so that they were clutching her ass, holding her in place, her upper body still against the door.

She pulled him back up to her, her arms strong and steady and sure, her mouth reconnecting to his and her hands pushing his pants down. He scooped her up easily, his hands cupping her backside, and took her into his bedroom. He laid her down on his bed and pressed his body against her, his hands palming her breasts and his lips sucking on her collarbone. She pushed her hips into his and Mako moaned, low and slightly pained. Korra deftly pushed down his boxers, her hand wrapping around him, hot and hard and ready for her. His breath was heavy in her ear, coming in pants. He repeated her name, afraid to tell her how much he loved her, how right this felt to him, how damned perfect it _always _felt with her.

Her hand stroked him a few more time before she stopped and said, "Mako, I need—" But his hands were already tearing off her underwear, feeling the warmth between her legs, feeling how ready she was for him. He pushed inside her easily and they both cried out then.

It had been so _so_ long. Being inside of her felt like home to Mako. He could have come right then. He held off though, and paused his movements. He looked down at her. He took in the expression of pleasure and love on her face, swirling over her features and making her breaths come in gasps. He kissed her lips, her eyelids, her cheeks. He needed her to know that this was more than just sex. This was so much more than just missing the feel of her beneath and on top of him. For Mako, this was everything. She was everything.

His mouth sought hers again as he began thrusting into her, slowly at first, wanting to feel everything and revel in everything that was Korra. The jerk of her hips up against his forced a deep groan from his lips, and his movements sped up. He kissed her neck, one hand at her breast while his other arm supported his weight. From the desperate noises she was making he could tell that she was close to the edge. He reached a hand down between them and rubbed against her sensitive bundle of nerves there while he continued thrusting into her with hard, steady strokes. She was repeating his name as her legs came up and wrapped around his waist, and with a few more flicks of his fingers she came for him, her pleasure and the feeling of her tightening around him pushing him over the edge. He came then, collapsing against her as her hands came up to stroke his hair gently, lovingly. They were both panting, physically and emotionally spent.

He held her face in his hands and stared into the pools of blue.

"Korra, I—" He started to say, wanting to tell her he loved her. She silenced him with a kiss.

"You don't have to say anything," she said. "I know, Mako."

But the words fell easily from his lips, and he felt like he wanted to cry.

"I love you, Korra."

She smiled then, and he hadn't seen a smile like that from her in so long, and it mended his heart while simultaneously breaking it.

"I love you too. I never stopped," she said.

"I could never stop. I'll never stop," he murmured into her soft brown hair, his eyes closing, not letting the tears spill out.

She stroked his hair until he fell asleep.


End file.
